


Dogsitting

by ShaneDarkwin



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Give Elsa A Girlfriend (Disney)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneDarkwin/pseuds/ShaneDarkwin
Summary: Caring for her brother-in-law's dog for the week isn't exactly the life-altering situation Elsa expected. But then an incident at the park sweeps her off her feet (literally) and suddenly Elsa finds this change might be more than she bargained for.
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> these two stole their way into my heart one fireside chat at a time and im sad we didn't get to see more of the baby reindeer so here's two large ass dogs instead.

A giggling child ran past her, chased by a whirlwind of fur and slobber that tackled it not ten steps from her. They went tumbling to the ground in a flurry of giddy yelps. 

The approaching parent seemed less concerned and more pleasantly entertained by the fact their child was rolling around in dirt and getting licked by an animal that frequently cleaned its own parts with the same tongue. Distraught, Elsa cringed and she shifted her attention to the barking at her left. 

Somewhere in the pack of rough-housing dogs she spotted a shaggy mess of white and grey. She nodded to herself, satisfied that Sven had not, in fact, taken off to the opposite end of the park _again_. She really preferred not to repeat Tuesday's disaster. There was only so much panic and embarrassment her dignity could stomach. 

Knowing Sven safe and occupied for at least another solid five minutes, Elsa's mind began to wander along with her gaze.

For as long as she could remember, Elsa had always been striving for one thing: perfection.

Admittedly, she was truly exceptional at it, too, and so it was still challenging to toe the line between being a perfectionist and harmfully perfect. But even she understood now, after many, many hours of therapy and soul-searching, that being everything to everyone at all times just wasn't a viable way to live. That it was okay to say 'no' sometimes and accept that there were things she simply wasn't laid out to do, no matter how badly she may want to. 

And yet. 

Here she was, Elsa the cat person, the anxious introvert, the cleanliness-freak-bordering-germaphobe (Anna's words, not hers), standing in a dog park among barking, whistles and shouts of over a dozen dogs and their owners. 

In her defense, she hadn't offered to babysit (dogsit?) Sven without any second thoughts entirely. While she did feel a little out of her depth and reasonably overwhelmed in situations like this, there was no big readjustment for her otherwise. She fed Sven twice a day along with the rest of her pets, a little dog hair mingling with the pre-existing cat her on her furniture and clothes was tolerable and if she was honest she really could use the exercise the dog demanded. All in all, it was only a moderate step outside her comfort zone. And her therapist had encouraged her to venture on this side more, anyways, so really, she was actually going in the right direction. 

Nodding again, Elsa almost believed herself this time. 

Once she'd that her brother-in-law's furry friend had stuck close by, she started to stroll down one of the footpaths. The park itself was surprisingly nice. There was one paved lap around the park that had smaller paths branching off into the less maintained areas. They tended to be less crowded, too, so naturally, Elsa felt drawn to them. She had a sneaking suspicion it was the same for Kristoff, seeing as Sven seemed to know his way around here. 

When Anna had told him about Elsa's offer he had laughed, then done a double take when neither of the sisters joined in. 

_"You, taking Sven. For a week?"_ His eyebrow had surged up under his messy hair and Elsa had had a hard time answering his inquiry seriously once she'd noticed. After clarifying that, yes, she did intend to watch over his canine best friend so he could take her sister _on their honeymoon_ , any remark Kristoff had wanted to make about Sven probably being the same weight as her had died in his throat.

His anxiously overbearing advice had not, though. He still texted her for updates three times a day.

In the meantime, Sven had taken to a one-on-one chase with a dog that was somehow even bigger than him. Elsa looked around for its owner and came up empty for the moment, but shrugged it off. The park was enclosed and some people had more faith in the loyalty of their pets than others, she'd noticed, so it wasn't uncommon for dogs to venture off on their own. 

Humming the tune of a song she'd had stuck in her head all week Elsa mused about what she would have for dinner, faintly registering a new voice in the cacophony of conversations, whistling and yelling that filled the park. She craned her head to find the voice's owner and saw the outline of a person jogging her way. It wasn't until the woman in questioned began to frantically wave her arms that Elsa considered the option the shouts may have been addressed to her, but by then her fate was already sealed. Elsa turned just in time to find herself faced with a wall of dark brown fluff and entirely too much saliva that promptly smashed into her, effectively taking her legs out from under her. 

They better give me the Darwin Award for this, she thought before she hit the ground and everything went dark. 

* * *

Honestly, it shouldn't surprise her. 

Her day had been off to a rocky start and it had been all downhill from there, so it made sense Maren would hit rock bottom at the close of it. That the figure of speech would be represented by a gorgeous woman literally hitting the stone littered path head-first was a plot-twist she had not seen coming, however. If it wasn't so horrifying, Maren might have even appreciated the irony. Faced with the uncertainty if she'd just stumbled into a negligence lawsuit, the moment had a bit of a sour undertone though. It didn't particularly help that the poor woman was still on the ground by the time Maren had jogged up to her. 

_Please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please don't be dead._

"Shit, are you okay?" Maren asked the eerily still figure before her. Just as she was about to crouch down next to her, the woman scrunched up her nose and let out the softest groan Maren had ever heard. She took a relieved breath of her own and lowered herself to the ground. 

"I'm so sorry, she forgets her size, especially when she's playing, but this has honestly never happened before," Maren jumped right into the rambling to drown out the repetitive _please don't be a bitch, please don't sue me_ coursing through her brain. Was it fair to the squinting blonde who looked entirely out of it to bombard her with unnecessary excuses? Probably not. Was she going to do anything in her power to make her forget she was just run over by a 170lbs Newfoundland puppy? You bet. 

Carefully helping the other woman sit up, Maren peppered her with a bunch of other questions to assess her medical status and was pleased to hear she didn't intend to check into the ER. One threat less looming over her head, Maren now just had to stick around long enough to ensure her brother wasn't going to get dragged to court. 

They were standing upright by the time her mind eased enough to really look at the unfortunate soul. As Maren watched her free her hair from a loosened braid and brush off whatever dirt wasn't stuck already, it hit her that Pookie may have chosen the most beautiful woman in the entire park to mow down. 

Platinum blonde hair cascaded down slender shoulders onto a once-white cardigan that Maren didn't mind paying the dry cleaning for. She spied a dark blue bluse underneath, neatly tucked into light jeans that fit like a second skin. The part of Maren's brain meant to keep her in check conveniently malfunction for a second there and she had to pinch herself to keep from making a comment that would most definitely land her in dangerous territory. 

"I-uh- again, I'm really sorry," she stammered instead while the blonde beauty regarded the cardigan she now held in her hands with sad eyes. "I'm totally gonna pay for any damages or to, you know, get it cleaned." 

"Oh, that's sweet, but it's fine. Really." 

Some part of her wanted to press further, insist it was the least she could do, but when their eyes met the words died on Maren's tongue. It was almost like composure was only available in anti-proportional amounts to them; the more of it the mystery woman regained, the less Maren seemed to retain. 

"You didn't happen to see where our dogs took off to, did you?" 

_Ah, shit._

* * *

They take off towards the more crowded area off the park together. This might actually top the mortifying ordeal of sprinting after Sven when he decided to book it out of the park with a friend of his while a dozen people watched. Might, if it wasn't for the undeniably attractive company Elsa had found herself in after her ten second blackout. Her head did still hurt and she wasn't yet entirely sure if getting it checked out was really that bad of an idea, but it could be worse. And as much as she usually despised small talk, she almost didn't mind her current company. 

"... so I take her like three times a month, but he usually gives me a heads up in advance at least, you know? I just let it slide today because the guy he's on a date with is apparently off the charts", the woman who had introduced herself as Maren ("Only my mother calls me Honeymaren") ended her tale. There was a vast array of details for Elsa to latch onto, but the question burst out of her before she could think. 

"So your brother likes men?" She kicked herself mentally for being so forthright, other people's sexual orientation was hardly any of her business and Elsa loathed the thought of strangers asking her sister the same question. 

Maren answered with a snort. 

"One of us had to, I guess," she said and then quickly glanced up at Elsa who had already started to blush. 

"That's not, like, a problem, right? I mean, you're not… you know-" 

"I'm gay!" Elsa blurted out ever so eloquently. The heat on her cheeks burned hotter than the fires of the seven circles of hell, she was sure of it, and the amused snicker Maren miserably failed to suppress did nothing to help that. She pressed her cardigan tighter against her chest, hugging herself.

"She's dodging the question, Your Honour," she muttered. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"Oh! No, sorry, it's a dumb meme." 

Elsa _had_ been meaning to brush up on that 'meme' business, if only to grasp what her sister was trying to tell her with out-of-context cartoon frames and old infomercials. Somehow it just hadn't seemed all that relevant, though, and so she never had. She deeply regretted that right now. 

"I just meant, like, way to come out to a stranger. This your first time?" 

Though it wasn't exactly the first, it still was a matter Elsa didn't usually address in light conversation. Her failure to form an appropriate reply didn't go unnoticed and Maren stopped in her tracks. At first Elsa thought she might have spotted their dogs, she was getting a tad antsy to be honest, but when the other woman opened her mouth she apologised. 

"I'm being so rude right now. First Pookie the Giant tackles you, possibly giving you a concussion, but you don't want to go to the hospital because it could get me in trouble. Then Pookie runs off with your dog and you're obviously anxious about it, but keep entertaining me and my dumb jokes which mostly consist of making fun of you. And you don't even want me to pay for the jacket!" Maren's face twisted into a pout and oh _wow_ , okay, that's definitely eliciting an emotional response. 

Desperate to squash The Feeling she wasn't prepared to experience, Elsa stepped forward (technically back, since she'd walked a couple of steps ahead before noticing her company wasn't keeping up) and put a hand on the shorter woman's shoulder. 

"I bear no ill will toward jokes on my expense, I grew up with a very lively sister, and if I'm honest I only get about half the references you make, anyway," she clarified. "The _cardigan_ , however, is actually quite delicate and I'm afraid I don't trust a lot of places to fix it. So I suggest you let that one go and help me find our dogs." 

Elsa couldn't quite fend of the smirk that stole its way on her lips when Maren blinked like a deer caught in the headlights. In an act of mercy, she turned to let her collect herself in peace. 

"Cardigan's just a fancy word for jacket," Maren mumbled barely audibly when she caught up to her again and Elsa laughed. 

* * *

"And you're sure you feel up to driving?" Maren asked for the sixth time as they neared the parking lot. It was a miracle that the blonde hadn't told her to get lost yet, seeing as she had spent the better part of their walk back out of the park asking a million questions about Elsa's well-being. 

"If I didn't I wouldn't take the risk. My brother-in-law would kill me if anything happened to his best friend." 

"Well, I can imagine," Maren said. They'd made quite a bit of conversation during their search and the circumstances of Sven's being in Elsa's care had come up. "Still…"

They arrived at the gates, leashes clicking into collars and Maren was met with a look that crossed the borders of amusement into something impossible for her to read. 

"I appreciate your concern, again, but I'll have you know I'm a terrible liar and coincidentally not too fond of emergency rooms," Elsa stated in a tone that left no room for discussion. She must have caught the glint in Maren's eyes, because she added: "And I'm not going to let your vet brother check my head, either, thank you very much." 

With that she crossed the gate out of the park into the lot. Maren stood in a spot for a long, useless moment. She was running out of time to make her move. 

Pookie tugged on her leash, making Maren lose her balance and trip forward into the gate. She caught herself, but it was enough to pull her back into the present. Finding herself jogging after her new friend once more, Maren did what she could do best and improvised. 

"Okay, okay, no doctors. I get it. But I still feel responsible for what happened and want to make sure you get home safe so," Maren drew out the last vocal as her brain turned over this shitty excuse for a plan again and again. She really didn't want to come across as creepy or threatening. But she also really didn't want this to be just a quirky one time thing. She'd had more fun this evening, despite the stress of it all, than she had had all week. 

Realising that her train of thought had slowed to a stop and Elsa was looking at her expectantly and a little confused, Maren cleared her throat. _All or nothing_. 

"I just, uh, I mean if you don't mind, it's totally cool if you don't feel comfortable, but I was wondering if, you know," Why was she stammering? She never stammered, this never happened, _what the_ _hell_ , "wouldyoumindgivingmeyournumber?" 

A mortifying second passed in which Elsa studied her closely, eyes a piercing blue in the pale streetlight, and Maren swore Pookie cocked her head at the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. Then the expression in Elsa eyes grew softer and the corners of her mouth curved upward ever so slightly.

When swapped their phones back there was a fleeting moment, blink and you miss it, when their hands touched. 

Her cheeks were still flushed by the time she and Pookie were halfway home. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, lighting up with a new message as she pulled it out of her jacket. 

While the text itself was rather simple, almost suspiciously neutral even, the texter ID was anything but. It read " _Potential Lawsuit_ " and Maren giggled out loud, prompting the man next to her at the traffic light to give her a wary look. But Maren didn't care: The tall blonde goddess evidently came with a sense of humor and Maren had gotten her number. 

Going to bed that night Maren couldn't shake the distinct feeling that her life's fairy tale had only just begun. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick heads up, i had a little chat with a friend about tenses and as a result, this shall be continued in present tense. hope that's not too bothersome for anyone and please excuse any slip ups i may have missed, this is currently still unbeta'ed.

"They aren't bad people or even bad parents for that matter just very… overbearing. 'We're putting you through college so the least you can do is choose a profitable career', you know? So Ryder and I made a pact to pursue the most maliciously compliant degree in our respective fields and that's how he ended up in veterinary medicine," Maren finishes her story. 

It's a cold day, colder than the previous night, and she burrows one hand deep in the pockets of her leather jacket while the other is clutching her leash. She's been alternating hands for quite some time now and Elsa is seriously considering just offering her her gloves since she wears them for aesthetic purposes only, but something holds her back. 

_It's not weird to offer a technical stranger your gloves, is it? Where does one even draw the line between stranger and acquaintance? Is getting knocked out by someone's dog and exchanging phone numbers close enough to being acquainted to offer that somebody your gloves?_

"And what did you major in?" Elsa hears herself ask. Her tone is light, conversational, unalluding to the blizzard raging inside her mind. 

Maren zips up her jacket to very top and turns to face her, a devilish grin painted on her face.

"Psychology." 

She winks and Elsa averts her gaze as quickly as her lagging brain will let her. Cursing the blush that's always a dead giveaway on her pale skin, she prays that by some miracle it might go unnoticed. 

"I never wanted to go to college anyways, so I thought why not pick the one major that'll be entertaining and make my parents consider disowning me," the source of Elsa's mental anguish continues without a hitch, though Elsa is certain to detect a hint of amusement in her voice that hasn't been there before. 

"So what do you do for a living now?" she asks hoping that talking will distract Maren from looking at her long enough for the blush to dissolve. Fate apparently isn't having it, though, because Sven spots a squirrel scittering across the path and into a nearby tree and pulls Elsa a couple feet into the grass before she can regain her grip on his leash. Seems the blush is here to stay, then. 

"Just, pretend that never happened. Please," Elsa mutters through gritted teeth when she resumes her position walking next to a smirking Maren. 

"Alright, but only if you answer some of my questions first." 

"If it gets you to forget any and all mishaps including me and dogs, then fine."

"What did you do in college?" 

"That's awfully creative of you to-" 

"Wow, Elsa, is that _dirt_ on your shoes I spy? Wonder where that came from on this cleanly-" 

"Okay, fine," she interrupts, surrendering. "Law." 

Maren stays silent at that. Whether the silence is expectant or terrified (Elsa bets the 'Potential Lawsuit' thing just got hauled to a whole other level of ironic), she can't tell. So Elsa finds a group of trees on the other side of the clearing to concentrate on and continues. "I did law because it was what my parents expected, that I follow in their footsteps. By the time they died I was well into my studies and it just felt right to finish and take the bar. Honour their memory, I guess." 

The words roll off her tongue more easily than she's ever expected them to. A chunk of her life she spent years denying, then processing through therapy before finally accepting it, is laid bare to this… acquaintance within only a couple of sentences. She tries to ignore the voice asking if it's her progress that made it this easy or the person she's talking to. 

They're well into the clearing now and Maren moves to unhook the leash from Pookie's collar, so Elsa mirrors her to tinker with Sven's. As the dogs take off chasing each other through settling evening mist, Elsa feels a pair of eyes on her. 

"I'm sorry," Maren finally says, "for your loss."

Elsa waves her off. "No, I'm sorry. This is a bit much for relaxing after-work conversations." The nervous chuckle that follows sounds nothing like her and Elsa visibly cringes at the sound. 

"Are you happy now? At your job, I mean?" 

"Well, I got a job in law because it would've been a waste to just throw away the last three years of my life." 

It doesn't answer the question, but Maren doesn't push it, either. 

_Probably that damn psychology degree coming in handy there._

"I don't mean to alarm you," Maren starts after another few minutes of companionable quiet and Elsa can immediately feel her pulse quickening, "but did you see where our dogs went?" 

A sense of déjà vu overwhelms her at this point and she can't help but laugh. Not even the incredulous look she receives from her company stops her. 

"I'm sorry, did I say something funny to you?" Maren inquires, mock defensiveness in her voice. Her eyes conveying none of the urgency her tone holds, though, and so Elsa makes no effort to stifle her giggles. 

"It's just that we keep losing them and I knew I was a horrible dog owner," she manages to wheeze, "but you're equally as horrible at it and that's as reassuring as it is funny."

Maren looks like she's about to retort something stunningly witty when her eyes grow wide at the sight of something behind Elsa's back and then everything happens far too fast for her to process. 

Next thing she knows, her face is a hair away from Maren's, their bodies pressed together in entirely too many, yet simultaneously too few places, and the sound of paws on wet grass mixes with claws clicking on asphalt. 

The pack of domestic-pets-overcome-by-instincts passes them by and Elsa watches as Maren turns her head from where she's been looking at the dogs to face the woman occupying her personal space instead. 

It's only an instant, the fraction of a second, really, but Elsa's mind slows down the moment to last an eternity. She realises a number of things right then. 

Firstly, that Maren's and her body are only touching in three places now. She feels knees digging into hers right below her knee cap, but none of the discomfort that should cause. They're chest to chest and as awkward as it should feel to be so close to another person, especially one so attractive, it feels oddly familiar. Maren's hands are gripping onto the backs of Elsa's upper arms tightly, drawing her in and keeping her steady. (She tries not to think about the strength and control it must take to pull someone taller than you towards you without toppling over. Those thoughts are better spared for a time when she's surrounded by four walls and a roof, all alone.)

Secondly, Maren's eyes are brown. A deep shade of hazel with tiny specs of honey scattered at the rims of her iris, inviting Elsa to dive down and lose herself in them until she forgets how to breathe. (She'd willingly drown in them, too, if that's what it takes.)

Thirdly, she's absolutely and royally _fucked_. 

Time catches up with her right when the last thought echoes through her now empty head and Elsa mutters " _shit_ " under her breath at the same time Honeymaren's growing smile erupts into relieved laughter. 

The sound of it is unlike anything Elsa's heard before and suddenly it's like she's blinded by the beauty that's radiating off the woman in front of her, making her unable to see anything else. 

+

"You good?" Maren asks later when they're back at the gates. 

Elsa mumbles an underwhelmingly basic excuse, blaming it on the shock of almost being trampled to death by a horde of dogs and is corrected by Maren that a group of dogs is referred to as a 'pack'. Not convinced of the maneuver at all, Maren makes a mental note about to dissect their evening for clues later, but doesn't press the issue. Something tells her that it's more 'pick your battles' with this one than Elsa lets on. 

She's about to move on to a topic that'll let them gently glide into goodbyes without any awkwardness sitting between them when Elsa mutters something under her breath. 

"Sorry?" 

The words were clearly not meant for her if her new friend's stiff posture and wide eyes are anything to go by. (Maren strongly suspects they are.) 

"I didn't-" 

"Hmm, see, I think you did," Maren teases and is as surprised about the sudden playfulness as Elsa. She feels the blonde's eyes on her, but is too busy blushing and mouthing ' _what the hell_ ' to herself to do anything about it.

_So much for picking her battles, huh?_

The awful tension between them grows exponentially with every passing second. Maren is fairly certain by now that Elsa isn't looking at her anymore and somehow that's even worse. A glance in her general direction confirms as much. It's too quick to make anything out for certain, but Maren catches a hue of pink on her cheeks and internally cusses herself out. 

She wants to explain that her words held no malevolence, apologise for embarrassing Elsa, apologise for turning a pleasant walk into one of those social horror scenarios that keep you up past 3am wondering where it all went wrong. When her body betrays her and her vocal cords go into strike as she opens her mouth, Maren forcibly clears her throat and reaches for Elsa's hand. Obviously not expecting the gesture, the other woman flinches at the touch and Maren kisses any chance of saving their evening goodbye. 

"Oh god, I'm so sorry-" she finally manages to croak at the same as Elsa blurts out "Sorry, I didn't mean to-" 

They look up at the same time and for the first time Maren realises how blue Elsa's eyes are. They don't hold the icy, sharp gaze she expects and not the hazed, droopy one from their first encounter, either, but rather something else entirely. There's a softness to her eyes she's only seen before when Elsa talked about her sister or her other pets. The little crease in her brow speaks a different language, however, tainting her expression with something too close to fear for comfort. Maren watches the street lights reflection disappear in Elsa's dilated pupils and emerge on the other side of her iris as she swiftly turns her head, shielding herself from view. Only when she pulls her arms around herself it's that Maren realises: She's protecting herself. 

Maren mentally slaps herself back into reality. 

Of course Pookie and Sven choose this moment to reintroduce themselves to the situation, effectively foiling any and all plans Maren could have come up with to salvage her monstrous fuck-up. 

The tension stays right there, wedged in between them like an invisible door that Maren is too scared to knock on; whether it's for a fear of being told to go away, or worse, find out it's locked, she doesn't know. One way or another, she keeps her mouth shut until it's time to bid goodbye. When they do it's hollow and _off_. Even the dogs seem to pick up on the change of atmosphere. 

The sinking feeling in her stomach as she watches a head of platinum hair disappear between the cars tells her this is Serious™. Luckily, Maren knows just the guy for desperate times like this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disaster gays strike again! hard this time 
> 
> i want to use this opportunity to let you guys know that i am very aware of the misleading signs i peppered in there, but none of elsa's reactions/body language is meant to be foreshadowing past abuse. this is a light-hearted romcom about useless lesbians and i wouldn't want to downplay the severity of the issue just to fit my stories tone.
> 
> phew okay, enough serious business. you may noticed this gained a chapter and that this lil update is just that: a lil one.   
> i wanted to keep things clean so you're getting another one tomorrow, also kind of short-ish but it does have its charme too, i promise.   
> stay safe, stay healthy (if you can) and don't lose hope, my friends! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our disaster lesbians receive a much needed intervention from their families.

Maren starts to overanalyse as soon as their ways part in the lot with a painstakingly awkward exchange of good night wishes, and comes home to an unsuspecting Ryder a nervous mess. Half an hour and three fourths of a container of takeout food later, she's mostly settled if still shouldering an overwhelming amount of guilt. 

"Let me get this straight." 

"You've never gotten anything straight in your life," Maren grumbles into their shared box of spring rolls and earns a half-hearted kick from her brother. Pookie cracks one eye open from where she's perched in between the siblings, then decides their shenanigans aren't worth her energy and goes back to sleep. 

"Ha ha, very funny. A bit more gratitude would be nice, I am trying to fix your girl problems here," Ryder reminds her and snags the springroll out of her hand. 

Maren rolls her eyes, but stays otherwise quiet. 

"So, my dog mows down this girl in the park who turns out to be not only super hot, but also super kind, and doesn't immediately sue you and by extension me, though she very well could," Ryder recounts her story. "She's funny, pet-friendly, a family person, basically your _dream woman_ -" he raises an eyebrow as if the words needed to be more enunciated "-yet you decide to screw it up regardless by bullying her into embarrassment." 

Maren, who's set down her plastic container and looks appropriately ashamed of herself, drops her head in her hands, groaning. 

"And then you come crawling home to _me_ ," Ryder finishes slowly, totally not enjoying the way his sister squirms in her seat at all, "the gay guy who knows nothing about women. For help with a _girl problem_." 

"Ryder, I'm desperate. She's everything you said and more and I just," she digs her hands into her hair like a madwoman, "I freeze up! This never happens! You know me, I'm the one who's supposed to know women!"

When her brother just laughs, her face twists into a grimace. 

"Please, Ryder, I am a woman on the edge here," Maren pleads. She's only half joking at this point. 

Ryder picks up the packet of soy sauce and squeezes it out over his sister's leftover noodles. It's a test of her good (or rather, ill) will. She knows he knows that that was meant to be her lunch for tomorrow because it's what she always does. She also knows he's trying to see how far she's willing to go for his advice.

So, she bars her annoyance to leave her body only in form of a mediocre glare, making Ryder pause and go "huh" before emptying the packet completely. 

The first few forks (yes, forks, because Maren never got through to him on how to use chopsticks) into his second dinner, he stays conspicuously silent. Right as Maren is about to lose her nerve and starts evaluating the different cushions on the couch in terms of aerodynamics, he finally lowers the box. 

"Have you, like, considered texting her?" 

Maren blinks. Once. Twice. Then thrice. 

Her brother sighs and puts his food back onto the living room table. 

"There's this thing called ' _communication'_ that mature adults like to engage in when there's-" 

A red and green plaid cushion hits him square in the chest where he's held his noodles only a few seconds earlier. She knew she should have chosen the reindeer one, dammit. 

There's an elongated pause where Maren isn't sure whether her brother will retaliate (and he probably doesn't know either), then Ryder closes his eyes as if to compose himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"To think you're the older one…"

The bell around Rudolph's stitched neck jingles when the cushion sails right at his face. 

* * *

Elsa is sitting on her couch, legs tucked in underneath her, steaming mug still cooling down on the table in front of her. The crunching and smacking from the kitchen suggests Sven, Olaf and Gale are enjoying their dinner and it's reassuring to know at least someone is having a good time. Means she hasn't managed to fucked up everything tonight. 

She sighs, frustrated with her own negative mindset and tosses her phone onto the far end of the couch before getting up. No use staring at it to work herself into making matters even worse. 

Bruni is already hanging from his terrarium ceiling when she gets there. It's impossible for reptiles, she knows that well enough, but Elsa swears the gecko smiles at her every time he's picked up from his cage. 

With the lizard climbing up her arm, Elsa makes her way back to the couch. They pass by the kitchen and she only has to tell Sven off once before he backs off of Olaf's bowl, though his eyes drift back to the cat food almost immediately. 

The LED light on her phone notifies her that she's received a text and Elsa's stomach flips, but she steels her nerves. Bruni is far too quick to be left unattanded for even a second when out of his cage and she doesn't feel like giving him the chance to play a nauseating game of hide-and-seek again any time soon. 

The minutes tick by achingly slow and despite Bruni's best efforts to distract her, Elsa can't seem to muster the usual joy at him sneaking his way into her hair. By the time she puts him back to feed him, her hands are fumbling mess. Two unblinking eyes watch her scatter calcium powder everywhere but the box of mealworms in her drawer, and she curses under her breath. As if on cue an orange tail loosely wraps itself around her calf when Gale appears by her feet, all too interested in the crickets Elsa is placing in the terrarium. 

"Honey, we talked about this," she says to the cat, "they're not toys, they're food. And either way, they're not for you." 

Gale meows in response and trots off to sulk. 

Elsa grabs her phone from the couch once Bruni is happily munching away on some bugs and sits down in the kitchen instead, a nervous tingling running through her body. The pulsating light is almost teasing, sending a new wave of nervous anticipation through her with every blink. 

Elsa flips the phone upside down and pulls out the day's newspaper. She'd started the crossword before heading to work but never finished it. It's the perfect distraction. 

In theory. 

In reality, she can't even focus long enough to make sense of the descriptions. 

Sighing, she looks around for her pets and can only spot the Belgian mix, peacefully dozing by the door. Sven may be comfortable enough to tolerate staying at her apartment, but she knows he's still always waiting for Kristoff to come back. And in all honesty, she cannot blame him. She misses her sister desperately, too. 

The faint tapping of paws suggests her cats are running around in the living room and Elsa shoots a quick prayer to whatever deity will hear her that Gale doesn't knock over anything fragile. 

Olaf jumps onto the table not long after, carrying a toy carrot Anna got for him as a Christmas gift. He curls up on the newspaper before Elsa can protest and she takes it as a higher power's sign to let it go. 

There's no use in pretending the awkwardness of earlier didn't happen, or that she desperately wants to clear the air between Maren and her, no matter how much her anxiety might disagree. 

Sven sighs heavily in his spot and Elsa finds herself nodding in agreement. "I know, buddy, I know."

When she finally does unlock her phone, the actual text is somewhat underwhelming. 

**Anna**

_we've got a window for_ _t he next half hour_

_whatcha up to, sis?_

Elsa sighs. The pressure in her chest releases somewhat, but is replaced with a tug that she isn't sure she wants to investigate further. She types out a reply and waits. 

_Just making sure_ _everyone's fed._

_How's Spa day going?_

_it's._

_so._

_great!!_

_they even got Kristoff to_ _get a manicure!_

 _his hands aren't sandpaper_ _anymore!!!_

Her screen glosses over and is suddenly taken up by a photo of Anna standing in a sunflower field, arms around Elsa's neck and grinning with the light and warmth of a thousands suns.

An involuntary smile steals its way on Elsa's lips before she hits Accept and a slightly older, much tanner Anna takes her place. 

"Yep, I knew it. Something's wrong," she greets her sister before Elsa even has the chance to say anything. 

"Anna!" 

"What?! I'm right, aren't I? You never spare me any details about the bugs and worms. What is it?" Her face goes pale and she leans closer to her camera, voice hushed. "Is it Sven? Did he run away again?" 

"No, it's not Sven," Elsa denies her sister's entirely unprovoked assumption. Her pulse does pick up pace at the reminder, though, and Elsa feels a familiar sense of frustration arise at her body's blatant disregard for her collected thoughts. 

There's a light shuffle in the background and she catches the glimpse of a white bathrobe followed by unintelligible shouting. 

"He's fine, Kristoff!" Anna shouts back and rolls her eyes. Elsa clicks the pen she's been fumbling with and jots down ' _send Kristoff puppy pics'_ next to her unfinished crossword. 

"Is it work?" 

"No, work's fine, Anna," she insists, slightly annoyed. Her sister frowns. 

"Then what is it? No offense, but there's not much else going on in your life beside work and pets." 

Elsa scoffs and is about to retort, then changes her mind at the last second. Anna isn't exactly wrong, after all. For years, she had isolated herself to perfection, so much so that she didn't feel the need to reach out beyond her immediate family ties to Anna and now Kristoff, even after therapy. Her world was small, yes, but it wasn't suffocating anymore. Why fix something that wasn't broken? 

"Elsa?" Anna's face is twisted in worry now, a look that's never suited her, and Elsa feels a ping of pain in her heart for being the cause. 

"I-," she falters, takes a breath, releases it. _You wanted this, so don't chicken out now_. "I met someone."

Anna's face lights up at once and the million questions sprouting in her head are nearly visible underneath the surface. 

"Oh my god, that's so great! Finally! I mean, not that you _have_ to have someone to be happy, just because that's my ideal doesn't mean it has to be yours, or anything. No one's any imposing standards here, right. I'm just happy you're letting someone in because that's such a-" The frown returns when Anna notices the grimace slipping onto Elsa's face at her last sentence. "Wait, why are you looking so down then? Did something happen?" 

"No. Well, I don't know. Maybe?"

"Elsa, that's really not clarifying anything here," Anna states flatly. So, after a deserved groan, Elsa delves into the long story about meeting the dashing stranger with the even stranger name. About ten minutes of talking and equally as many blushing (she had to reiterate the first two minutes for Kristoff who joined in with her consent), Elsa feels a mix of embarrassment, vulnerability and, oddly enough, relief. It's not entirely unpleasant. 

Anna and Kristoff exchange a look, the silent communication couples who have been dating for a while sometimes fall into, and though Elsa usually doesn't mind it much (it's not like Anna and her didn't do it to Kristoff all the time, too), she can't help but cross her arms in a defensive gesture. 

"What?" she demands. 

"I want you to know that I'm saying this with my undying love for you as your sister in mind, okay?" 

Elsa doesn't answer, not trusting her tongue nor stomach not to betray her, so she settles for a challenging glare. 

"Okay…" Anna breathes out. "I think you're being a bit, um, you know I don't mean this in any offensive-" 

"Anna, just-!" 

"- dense." 

When Elsa just blinks at her, Anna's face twists in a mix of empathy and pity. Elsa really isn't a fan of _that_. 

"She obviously likes you!" her sister blurts out in orderly Anna-fashion. "Look, I know you're… " She hesitates, looking up at Kristoff for help. Though Kristoff grew up as an only child, his otherwise impressively large family instilled him with a handle on communicating with people you're bound to be seeing for the rest of your life. The skill came in handy more often than Elsa dares to admit. 

"You're cautious," Kristoff says, "and that's not a bad thing. I mean I totally get it." 

He gestures at her sister, and Elsa can't help but smile and roll her eyes at the way he looks at her. "But even I see that Anna's right about this. This girl does seem to like you back. And with the way you talk about her it would be a waste if you just walk away like this."

With a frustrated huff Elsa sinks back into her chair, chewing her bottom lip. It's not like she hasn't considered the option herself. She might be a bit dense when it came to potential romantic prospects, but she isn't _blind_. She very much has picked up on the way Maren looks at her when she thinks Elsa doesn't notice. But despite all that, she hasn't dared to take it too seriously.

"Okay," she says slowly, drawing in a breath. _You can do this_. "So what do I do?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a lovely week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mention of:  
> surgery, death. 
> 
> also depicted: anxiety attack/freeze up.

"They'll be here, girl, just you wait." 

Pookie tilts her head in what looks an awful lot like pity and Maren groans. She really isn't about to let a dog look down on her, no thank you. A pat on the head later, the Newfoundland is off her leash and happily trotting toward her dog friends.

Maren watches her brown ball of fur bounce around for a moment to make sure she isn't about to lose her again, then pulls out her phone. The display reads 18:48. She sighs. Her notification bar is empty, no missed calls, no texts. 

For the fifteenth time she cranes her head to glance towards the south entrance of the park, but only sees the same group of dog owners as ten minutes prior loitering around. 

_Fine, then._

Reluctantly she leaves the spot she's been holding for the past 18 minutes and walks along one of the lesser frequented paths. It's not her usual M.O., but the park is busy and Maren is no mood to let a bunch of strangers judge her sulking face. 

Kicking at a small tree trunk by the path, she can't help but feel a little pathetic. 

_Stupid brain, stupid heart, stupid Maren._ Her hands are freezing from being out in the cold too long and she's pretty sure her nose is running too, though she's lost all feeling in that area of her face a while ago. 

_Why do you even care so much? Because she has pretty eyes? You don't even know the woman!_

She wants to yell at no one in particular, maybe at the world, maybe at herself, but a persistent vibration in her pocket stops her from going to such ridiculous lengths. Maren drops her leash as she tries to pry out her phone, cursing whoever decided to make women's pockets so infinitely small. Before she can succeed, someone behind her calls out her name. Maren goes to turn when something heavy slams into her back. 

She goes down without much say in the matter and barely manages to keep from meeting the ground face-first. 

Heaving herself onto her side and rolling onto her back, Maren lets out a moan that sadly fails to let all of her pain exit her body along with it. She knows how to fall, years of training have made sure of that, but that doesn't mean it ever stops hurting. 

A wet snout pressed into her cheek and Maren brings up her hands defensively, but is too slow to stop the tongue that inadvertently follows from meeting her skin. It's warm and big and wet as her assailant licks across her face. Despite her protests the process repeats twice more before the large white and grey head is yanked backwards and grants Maren the sight of- 

"Elsa?" 

"You know, we've really got to stop meeting like this."

Maybe it's because she unknowingly hit her head in the fall, or the relief of knowing she wasn't actually stood up, but when Maren looks up at the woman smiling down on her she can't help but think she looks out of this world. With the lamp post in her back, it's like Elsa's hair is glowing in an ethereal light. It's loose today, framing her face with that breath-taking smile on it and she seems somehow different, so free and happy and _wow, you really need to say something._

"Now that I've gotten to know your side of it," Maren groans as she fights her way into a sitting position, picking up conversation more flawlessly than she'd expected herself to, "yeah, I agree."

She takes the hand she's offered and winces against the pain flaring up in her lower back when she finally stands. 

"Sorry we're late, my last meeting ran longer than expected," Elsa says. When she sees Maren wince her brows knit together in a way that has no business being so adorable. "I hope Sven didn't dislocate any disks." 

Maren waves her hand dismissively. 

"Just an old injury, it's nothing." 

"Injury?" 

Sven tugs at his collar when he sees Pookie bouncing into view, making Elsa step closer to her in an effort to retain her balance. It's not yet close enough to touch, but definitely crossing the line that's commonly referred to as "personal space". Not that Maren minds. 

To her surprise, however, Elsa reacts by not reacting at all. There's no apologies, no putting more distance between them, no nothing. Although Maren does catch the hint of a blush on her cheeks out of the corner of her eye. She doesn't dare comment on it. 

Elsa releases her hold on Sven and they watch him catch up to the other dog in no time. 

"So," the blonde bumps her shoulder into Maren's, "what about that injury?" 

Still trying to figure out what could possibly have traversed in the time between their awkward goodbye and now that would permit Elsa to be this chipper and, well, touchy, Maren takes a bit too long to answer. When she realises her friend (Is she even allowed to still call her that? No, not for that reason. Shut up.) is giving her an amused look, it's Maren's turn to go beet red. Granted, her darker skin tone is a tad more forgiving than Elsa's, but not even complexion can't save her in this case. 

"I- uh, it's a sport injury," she explains, hoping words will give her something else to focus on than the burning in her cheeks. 

"What happened?" 

"Well, you know. I got in over my head, the other fighter went too hard, everything just kind of came crashing down on top of itself and next thing I know I'm on the mat and my back's broken." Upon the shocked expression she receives, Maren quickly adds "I did MMA. Pretty competitively too. Until, well, that happened."

There the rose touch on Elsa's cheeks is again and Maren would trade anything to know what caused it. Then it fades away and instead, Elsa lightly bites her bottom lip. Because that's so much better. Jesus. 

"But it's fine now," Maren pushes on with her story, desperate for a distraction, "it was a surprisingly clean break apparently and they fixed it in surgery. Twelve hours, though. Recovery wasn't pleasant, either, but here I am." 

She wiggles her arms and dramatically lifts up her right leg as far as her tendons will allow, earning a chuckle in response. 

"Still, that sounds horrible," Elsa replies and wraps her arms around herself in the same manner she had the night before, shuddering. 

"Breaking your back? Well, it's certainly no peace of cake." 

"Well, yes, that too. But I meant the twelve hour surgery." 

"Uh, sure, yeah, but it's not like I suffered through there. It felt pretty great actually to wake up. Before the pain, of course. But waking up? Incredible." 

Elsa cringes visibly at the words. "I wish I could share your enthusiasm." 

"Not a fan of surgery? I get it, my mom was terrified. We had a grandfather who went under for a routine heart operation and never woke up."

"It's not- actually, it's the opposite." 

"Opposite?" Maren's confusion is now openly displayed on her face. Wringing her hands, Elsa turns to face her. 

"I woke up in every surgery I've ever had."

She tries to, she really does, but against her minds commands Maren's jaw drops.

"My body apparently metabolizes anaesthetics far more quickly than normal, yet for some reasons doctors don't seem to take it seriously, so despite bringing it up it's happened… several times," the blonde trails off sheepishly, face flushing as soon as the words stop. It takes another beat for Maren to realise her open-mouthed staring is most likely the cause and so she blurts out the first thing that comes to her mind. 

"That sounds absolutely terrifying and I'm really sorry for you, but that's so _cool_." 

After a deep sigh that sounds more relieved than anything else, Elsa begins to elaborate. Maren's eyes are glued to her lips as she speaks and she convinces herself it's because the stories are remarkably interesting, and not because of her remarkably gigantic crush on the storyteller herself. She only succeeds partially. 

Elsa talks with her hands a lot, Maren notices. It's not the wide gestures she's used to from her brother when he gets exited. Hers are much closer to her body, seem more precise, almost like another dimension of communicating her thoughts rather than just expressing feelings when words don't suffice. 

Words, it seems, are entirely enough for Elsa. It might just be because she's told these stories time and time again to perfection, but there's no denying that everything from the syntax, over the pauses, down to the vocabulary she uses is all part of a carefully crafted bigger picture. Since when was eloquence this attractive? 

"Did you know that screaming nine year olds waking up mid-appendectomy are the leading cause for anesthesiologists fainting in an OR? True story, " Elsa closes with the ease of professional public speaker. The dashing smile that follows is nearly enough to make Maren faint right along with the anaesthesiologist. She tries to cover up the soft 'oh' that escapes her with a painfully awkward "ohhhh-f course it is!", though, again, her success leaves much to be desired. 

There's a halt in their conversation and Maren wants to fill the silence, yet her head is maddeningly empty. A look around proves their dogs as vicious traitors who only care about their own pleasure, playing together a good hundred meters away, so she accepts that she's alone in this one. Once again, they both start at the same time. 

"I actually wanted-" 

"So about last night-" 

"Oh shoot, sorry, you can-" 

"No, no, it's fine, you go-" 

Both women share a look. Unlike the night before, the shift in atmosphere is one to an air of hilarity this time and light laughter erupts from both of them. Maren is so caught up in her relief she almost misses the way Elsa bites her lip as she looks up at her. Almost. 

"I'm glad you came." 

The smile settling on the blonde's face is worth taking a fall for, Maren decides as she returns it. 

"I'm very glad you asked me to," Elsa replies. There's a high note to the end of that sentence like it's not yet finished, not really. But, hesitation written all over her face, Elsa pauses. She's begun absentmindedly fiddling with the cuff of her blouse. Maren deduces the nervous habit to be a sign that whatever may follow isn't a particularly easy topic to breach. Which really only leaves one of two options.

Either, this amazing, adorable, intelligent, stunningly beautiful woman is about to let her down gently and is just working up the nerve to do so in an as decent manner as possible. Or… 

Maren doesn't dare consider the second option. 

* * *

Her heart is racing. If she twists that button one more time she's pretty sure it'll come undone and then her favourite work outfit . It takes most of her will power to force her hand to still, at least for the few seconds it takes for her other one to move and now she's tracing circles on her palm the way her sister used to do. 

_Yes, right, Anna._

Anna always had something to say. Even if it wasn't always terribly articulate, she could power through any awkward moment and come out the other side relatively unscathed. If only that gift had been instilled in both of her mother's daughters. 

_Focus._

"There's something I wanted to tell you and I don't know if I can." 

The hailstorm in her chest tames a little once those words are said and Elsa sucks in a much needed breath. 

_You certainly have her attention now. No turning back anymore._

She opens her mouth to speak, but her tongue is like cement. The sentences she'd arranged all night, practised over and over again in the car on her way here are suddenly foreign concepts in her mind that her muscles don't know how to convey. It's neither the first time this has happened, nor will it likely be the last, but still it feels different. More frustrating than usual. 

_Stupid, stupid body. The one time I need you to cooperate._

When it becomes apparent that this isn't some two-second-fluke and her brain still won't respond, Elsa's head dips back and she lets out a dry, humourless chuckle. 

_Of course you can't do it. What were you even thinking? This isn't some romantic comedy where suddenly all your problems are solved by-_

A feather-light touch on her hand stops her train of thought. Glancing down, she realises Maren is holding her hand. 

"It's okay. Take your time, yeah?" 

Elsa forces herself to meet Maren's eyes. Just for a second, she tells herself, and a second is enough to recognize a fondness and patience in the other woman's expression that sets Elsa at ease. Or well, as much as ease as one can possibly feel when being in an incredibly vulnerable position. 

There's just something so surreal in receiving such an amount of unconditional support from a technical stranger/acquaintance/new friend/crush.

And then suddenly an idea pops into her head and Elsa doesn't think to, doesn't want to wait and consider it. Instead, she takes it at face value and before she knows better, surges forward. 

In university, about a month after her parents had died, Elsa found herself making out with a stranger in one of the bars near campus. It had been loud, crowded and dizzyingly hot in the establishment and though she'd tried to blame it on those outside circumstances, Elsa could never really shake the thought that maybe the kiss had just been bad in and of itself. The girl had been attractive, no complaints there, and Elsa didn't regret any of the decisions that had followed, but she couldn't pretend it had been an all too pleasant experience. After another handful similarily fruitless run-ins with prospective girlfriends, ranging from vaguely disappointing to surprisingly infuriating, she'd just decided to cut her losses and focus on her career. Whenever the urge arose to pursue a relationship (which at least happened rather infrequently anyway), she would just remind herself of the uncomfortable feeling of someone else's tongue roaming her mouth as if they were trying to devour her whole. The strategy was quite successful. 

That is until her lips make contact with Maren's. It is little more than a peck, a good portion of her hesitance sneaking its way into the sudden display of affection, but to her own surprise Elsa finds herself lingering at the touch. 

A horribly corny thought crosses her mind and she tries to ignore it. She fails. Hard. Thankfully the realisation suddenly hits her that, yes, the other woman may have been sending her pretty strong signals yet never explicitly stated this was what she's after and Elsa pulls back just as quickly as she's leaned in. 

For a horrifying moment they're both still and silent, giving Elsa's mind the room to run rampant with worry. 

Did she just screw up? Is this just another failed attempt at human connection? Even if, so what. It's no big deal. She'd get over it, she's done it before. Though the embarrassment of the situation would haunt her for years to come, surely… 

"Oh," Maren breathes and Elsa feels herself tense up again. 

_Yep, here we go. At least now you get to experience the other side of rejection. Perfect karma._

"I am so sorry, I shouldn't have done that," she blurts out, the tips of her ears burning up already. It's only now that she realises Maren's hand is still in hers and Elsa frowns down at their hands, puzzled. Then Maren squeezes lightly and she looks up into a bright smile and even brighter eyes. Elsa doesn't care if it's the nearby street lights reflecting in golden brown, her knees go weak at the adoration they hold either way. 

"Don't you dare apologise for doing what I was too scared to," Maren says. If the looks weren't enough, her words certainly will do the job. For one wonderful moment, the world is reduced to Maren's gently smiling features, and everything is well. 

A sharp whistle tears through the night and Elsa is reminded at once that they're still very much in a public space. The realisation doesn't exactly kill the moment, it is a pretty magical one after all, yet it functions as a sort of gateway back into reality. And reality _is_ waiting around the next corner with a sledge hammer, ready to pummel their moment into the next realm. 

When it hits Elsa, she pales instantly. One glance at her watch and she's cursing, out loud. Stammering out an apology at the sight of Maren's confused (concerned? disappointed? frustrated?) face, Elsa begins to look around for Sven.

"I promised to pick up my family from the airport and I'm already on borrowed time, which sounds really bad, I am aware, and I don't want you to feel like you're something I just squeeze in-between when I feel like it. That's not at all what this is, I promise. Because I like you. A lot." Her brain has the decency to interrupt the word vomit at this point to give her the time to blush furiously. "Which isn't saying that I expect you to-- I-I mean, I do like you. But not, like, uh- you know what I- it isn't -" 

In a cosmic act of mercy, Maren steps in, literally, and lifts a careful finger to Elsa's lips. It's as effective in shutting the rambling mess up as it is in rendering her effectively useless. Coherent thought may have been hard before, but now it's just plain impossible and it takes her a good moment to process that what Maren says next is her name. It sounds wonderful rolling off her tongue and another cheesy thought barrels through Elsa's head before she can stop it. 

I want to hear that sound for the rest of my life.

Maren has spoken probably about two more sentences if the movement of her lips is anything to go by, though Elsa is too lost in them to comprehend any of it. 

The next few minutes are a blur, but somehow she ends up making it to the ridiculously ugly and vast parking garage of the airport in time. While Sven grows impatient on his blanket in the backseat, Elsa allows for this small moment to compose herself. Not that the 32 seconds make much of a difference. 

She mentally prepares for Anna to know what's going on the minute she steps foot on solid ground. Somehow her sister just seems to have a sixth sense for affairs like this. Something about the thought makes her hesitate, but before her brain can fully wrap itself around the implication of the whole "affairs like this" thing, Sven barks. 

The emotionally taxing one-on-one with herself is approaching with steady steps as she waits for Anna and Kristoff to exit the luggage claim. There's a strange new, not entirely unwelcome feeling as well, though, interlacing the all too familiar wafts of anxiety. It's kind of like excitement at this change to her routine. The corny thought from earlier sneaks back into her mind before Elsa can stop it. 

_It's like the fog is lifting and I can finally see what everyone's talking about._

The more realistic part of her knows that one person cannot change your life at the snap of a finger. She doesn't expect that. But maybe, just maybe, this is the start of a less lonely chapter of her life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes it took me a week longer than expected but here we are. im currently playing with the idea of adding yet another chapter a few months into their relationship bc i had a really fun headcannon but starting a new job has me doing the bare creative minimum in my spare time so that may take a while (if it ever happens). if you'd be interested in that let me know!
> 
> as always, stay safe and be the best version of you you can manage today! love you ^-^

**Author's Note:**

> "I came in like a wrecking ball" ~ Pookie, probably
> 
> Elsa's sexuality is never specified beyond "I'm gay!" (we know that, sweetheart, you had 3 seperate coming out songs) but i will let you know i totally headcannon her as an ace lesbian. in a way, it's like the cardigan/jacket dispute: one's an umbrella term, the other a closer definition. hope you enjoyed and stay safe! =)


End file.
